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POEM: eat at joe’s

eat at joe’s

it’s a line I remember from MAD magazine
not the ones my parents used to stuff
into my stocking each christmas morning
but the older books I found in comic shops
filled with potztrebies and furshlingers
smilin’ melvin and tarzan parodies
references my 8- or 9- or 10-year-old brain
had no frame for (I laughed anyway)
I finally made it! my first joe’s
it’s perfect, too: use-worn wooden tables
a friendly waiter complete with
stringy mustache and soiled apron
Karen keeps my plastic cup
filled to the brim with sweet tea
everybody asks if I’m a a thru-hiker
because of the big backpack
they all seem a bit disappointed
when I tell them I came on a bus
for a fleeting moment I think
I’ll leave town early
walk to charlottesville
then my veggie burger arrives
if one more beautiful woman walks in here
I may never leave
spend my days in a booth
writing love poems
my nights in william byrd park
under the warm virginia sky

10 June 2012
Richmond, VA

(For more about Joe’s Inn, read yesterday’s tour diary.)

Published in Jazz Or Bust Tour My poems Poetry Travel

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